


Never

by RebelMage



Category: Tanz der Vampire - Steinman/Kunze
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 21:24:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1241272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebelMage/pseuds/RebelMage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It had happened so quickly. Far too quickly."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never

**Author's Note:**

> I just got an idea and rambled this together. I had to write something.

It had happened so quickly. Far too quickly.

Alfred hadn’t wanted to be turned, and Herbert had respected his wishes. He loved him far too much to force him into something so permanent. He would have lost him. So, Alfred had remained human, but he had loved Herbert, and that had been enough for him.

Herbert can still remember the first signs of age showing up. Small wrinkles where previously Alfred’s skin had been smooth. Herbert had assured Alfred he that he was still handsome, but something inside of him had broken. From then on, every time he’d see Alfred, it would not only be joy and love that would fill Herbert, but also the inevitable passing of time, and the devastating effect it would have.

Alfred started to tire sooner. However, even when he was no longer young, Herbert still loved him with all his being. Every day of their life together had been an adventure, especially later on, because it had to be. Herbert had to make it so, because they’d only have such a short amount of time available to them. Decades. That’s nothing to someone who’s immortal.

Now, Herbert’s wondering what would have happened if he’d turned Alfred. Sure, Alfred would have been angry with him for a while, maybe for a century or two, but they’d have eternity together.

Because, at this moment, Alfred’s lying on the hospital bed in front of him. He’s pale, but not with immortality like Herbert; he’s pale with mortality, with death. A heart attack.

It had all happened far too quickly.

Herbert strokes the side of Alfred’s face and flinches at how cold it is. Alfred had always been warm, full of live; he’d always hated how cold Alfred was. Any moment now, he should wake up and tell Herbert how cold his hand is, and Herbert would tell him that he’d have to warm him up, then, but _he isn’t moving_ , _isn’t waking up_.

He’s crying, and a nurse enters the room; she opens her mouth to say something, perhaps ask a question, but he glares at her and tells her to get out, to leave him alone. She looks terrified as she leaves again, and Alfred would tell Herbert off for his behaviour, except that he _won’t_. _Can’t_.

He’ll never do so again.


End file.
